


Bad Timing

by godotismissing



Series: This Shouldn't Happen to Me [3]
Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alpha!John, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Omega!Harry, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 06:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12451527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godotismissing/pseuds/godotismissing
Summary: Harry gets invited to dinner by his client as a thank you and sees John on a date, which, awkward.





	Bad Timing

**Author's Note:**

> so this took forever... I have little confidence in my writing but the feedback really helped and I'm glad there are people out there who like this. To everyone who left kudos, commented and wanted a continuation, this is for you guys!

Places like The Palmer House made Harry more nervous than traipsing into the Nevernever unarmed. The hotel interior reminded him of a cross between the Sistine Chapel and a ballroom and had the same imposing atmosphere. He tried not to gawk at the chandeliers, the polished wood and gilded mirrors at the bar out of a Hollywood movie. It wasn’t like he had never stepped into a joint like this but it was usually for a case; having a reason to be there made him feel less like someone pretending to be part of the rich upper society Chicago elite.

The maitre’d led him to a table for two where his client was already waiting. “Hey,” said Harry, trying not to feel self conscious under Alicia’s surprised once over. She smiled brightly, rising to press her cheek to his.

“Harry,” she said. “You clean up well. I wasn’t sure about the fit since Paul only had my estimate of your measurements to work with.” She grinned, pulling away to give his lapels a satisfactory pat. “But, wow, I have a good eye.”

Alicia Belevue was one of Chicago’s top architects with her own firm. As far as clients went, she was almost too good to be true, wealthy enough to pay a lot for a relatively simple case of a cheating husband. It wasn’t a job he’d usually take on; the Beetle wasn’t made for stakeouts but the husband was trailing magical residue, which was what had Harry suspicious since he was as vanilla mortal as they come. It didn’t take much digging to find out he just had a real kink for the occult. All his three mistresses were minor practitioners who didn’t have enough juice to manage a love charm between them even if they had known about each other. The real magic was how the guy managed to juggle all his relationships for as long as he did.

Harry grinned back. “Yeah, thanks for the suit. It’s wearing me really. Don’t think I’m doing it any favors.”

“Keep it. It looks good on you,” Alicia said, sitting down. “I’ve ordered wine for both of us. Will red be alright?” Having your husband cheat on you with three younger women must have been hard but she took it with stride. You wouldn’t have guessed how much pressure she’d been under from the immaculate twist of her hair and the smooth lines of her dress.

Her husband (ex-husband) was an idiot.

“I can be a wine man when the occasion calls for it,” Harry said, trying not to feel awkward as a waiter pulled his chair for him and placed a napkin on his lap, before filling his glass. “Congratulations on being a free woman,” he said toasting her as she lifted her glass with one elegant hand. He was about to take a sip and nearly poured the contents down his chin.

Right in his line of vision, sat John Marcone listening to a young man who was gesturing animatedly with his hands. There was no Hendricks in sight but Harry was willing to bet the couple of tables nearby were seated with Marcone’s men. As if he could feel Harry watching Marcone turned, eyes going wide when he saw Harry before they flitted to Alicia and something froze in his expression. 

Harry gulped a mouthful of red and looked away, hoping to hell his face wasn’t red. There was really no reason to get flustered. It wasn’t like Marcone and him were dating. In fact they were very explicitly _not_ dating. Harry had made it very clear just because they occasionally ended up in bed together did not mean they were… well, _together_. So what if the sex was fantastic and his traitorous brain thought about it more often than he liked? It was just one of his many weaknesses. 

“Well, the divorce papers went through without any trouble, thanks to you, Harry. Someone you recognize?” she asked, tilting her head at him. 

“No one worth talking to.” He couldn't help glancing over her shoulder again. John was impeccable as always in a navy three piece suit, no tie this time. The young man was still talking. Slender, slightly built, his cufflinks alone probably cost more than Harry’s rent; the kid may as well be holding a placard with 'omega' written on it. An omega who was really trying his damnedest to charm and not being subtle about it. Marcone was harder to read but he had always kept himself in check.

“Someone’s projecting,” Alicia said looking behind her curiously. Harry froze but then he remembered he was on blockers. Early on in his career, he realized it was just easier to pass as a beta if he was going to be a PI. He didn't like lying to his clients but he didn't like them doubting his abilities either. If being a beta meant work got easier, deception was a small price to pay.

“You, uh, know him?” Harry asked, glancing through the menu.

“Keller? I know his parents,” she said dismissively. “Personally, I think Marcone can do better. John Marcone’s a big donor for the National Trust for Historic Preservation of Chicago,” she said, probably assuming Harry had no idea who Marcone was. He knew she worked closely with several non-profit organizations on maintaining Chicago's older buildings. Marcone and her probably knew each other well.

“So he’s a friend?” Harry asked they had placed their orders.

“He’s reserved, for an alpha. A lot of us can get rather entitled." Alicia was an alpha as well and if Harry didn't know her, he would have thought her a beta. Easy to see why she would appreciate Marcone's restrain. "John’s different, I guess. Self-made. I don’t know much about his background but I have no reason to dislike him.” 

Harry managed to keep the disbelief from his face and his eyebrows from flying off his forehead. “You don’t think that’s shifty?”

“There are rumours,” she said with a shrug. “We’ve all got things to hide, don’t we? It adds to the appeal.” It was a little weird to think of Marcone embroiled in societal gossip like any rich, high-flying Chicagoan. Harry had only ever known him in one specific capacity - scumbag mobster. Hell’s bells, people actually liked him. Just look at the young omega wafting pheromones all over the place. “He’s not my type but I could introduce you, if you’re interested,” Alicia added. She had married a beta herself and from what Harry knew of her, was all for breaking tradition. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he said quickly. “I’m your date tonight. No need for anyone else.” He mentally kicked himself. Way to go, Harry, spout more horrible cheesy lines. Alicia laughed and patted his hand. He couldn’t tell if she was laughing at him or she was really just amused but decided to settle for the latter. It was that or die of embarrassment. 

Over entree, they discussed Harry’s more mundane cases and Alicia’s work and her jackass husband. He managed not to glance at Marcone until the main course when Keller’s laughter, high and sweet, could be heard above the low chatter of other diners, Marcone was smiling, eyes shifting away from the flushed young man and caught Harry watching him again. The smile turned into a smirk.

Between rolling his eyes and scowling, Harry decided it was best to just ignore Marcone like the way he was ignoring the sharp tug of _want_ and annoyance. Jeremy Keller was good-looking, if you liked the aquiline lithe type, just on the side of pretty. He could certainly give Harry’s White Court vampire brother a run for his money. He was also probably the kind Thomas wouldn’t mind taking home for a nibble. 

He watched Keller suck an olive from his martini in the most provocative way possible while making eyes across the table. Star and stones, how was John putting up with this? The whole scene made his skin itch and his jaw tightened. 

Right, he needed to get his brain under control. He excused himself as the waiter cleared their plates, waving off Alicia's concern.

The washroom was nice, all warm hues in an art deco style. Each stall was wide enough for its own personal sink; really inviting if you needed some time to think and clear your head. The irritation he was feeling just didn't make sense. He should be having a great night. The food was free, Alicia was great company. He actually looked all clean and razzly dazzly for once.

Yet he still felt like he wanted to punch someone. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t even _like_ Marcone. He’d been jealous before, over Susan and maybe sometimes Murphy, but this was something else. “It’s just biology, Harry. Don’t get confused. You’re better than that,” he muttered under his breath as he emerged.

It took him a second to recognize Marcone’s scent beneath the sandalwood cologne, drying his hands on a towel. He met Harry’s gaze in the mirror but didn't turn around.

Harry’s heart took a giant leap to his throat. ”What are you doing here?”

“Why else would anyone be in a washroom, Dresden?” Marcone said, tossing the towel into a chute. “Nice suit. Alicia always had good taste. I thought you were allergic to gifts.” 

“I like gifts. I just don’t like being bribed.” He was washing his hands a second time like an idiot instead of walking out and he had no idea why. “So, who’s the omega that looks like he wants to climb inside you and wear you to prom?” he asked and winced. He really hadn't meant to ask that. 

Marcone grimaced. “Keller’s father is a major property developer in the region.” Like that explained everything. 

“Even the great Gentleman Johnny Marcone has to kiss ass sometimes.”

Marcone didn’t even look fazed. Instead he smiled slyly and took a step closer. “Jealous, Dresden?”

‘No,” Harry said flatly and noticed he’d been wiping his hands on a towel forever. He chucked it aside with more force than necessary and turned to find Marcone had him caged against the counter with a predatory grin. It set Harry on edge immediately, irritation and arousal warring in the pit of his stomach. He was close enough that Harry could detect the faint scent of Keller lingering on his clothes. “You stink, John.” Marcone ignored him, pressing his nose beneath Harry’s jaw, breath ticklish against his neck. He doubted Marcone could scent anything since he was on blockers _and_ suppressants.

Then it clicked.

“If you wanted to know if I was sleeping with her, you could have asked. Hell’s bells!” he snapped. “Who’s the jealous --”

He felt a warm hand on his nape and Marcone’s mouth was on his, nipping at his lower lip, hungry and vicious. Harry let out a startled groan, hands automatically coming up to grip his shoulders. The sudden surge of lust left him dizzy and breathless. He couldn’t say he missed kissing Marcone but there were times when he _craved_ it. It took all of Harry’s self control to shove him back, both of them breathing hard. 

Marcone’s eyes were wild, blown black with only a sliver of green remaining. Christ, that was kinda hot. Harry moistened his lips - they were stinging pleasantly - and watch Marcone’s gaze drop to his mouth. “I am,” Marcone said softly after a moment.

“What?”

“I am jealous.” 

Harry stared, feeling his flushed face get hotter. He hadn’t actually expected an admission. “You shouldn’t be,” he said lamely. “We kinda agreed.” They didn’t sign a contract or anything but no strings attached - emotionally or otherwise - was pretty obvious.

“I know.” Then he was kissing Harry again, fingers digging into the back of his head and Harry gave in, inviting the heady brutality of it that burned like wildfire through his veins. Marcone slid a leg between his and he let out an embarrassing squawk. He had to stop this before he came in his pants.

“Look,” Harry gasped against Marcone’s lips. “We - are not - doing this. My client is _outside_.” Not to mention anybody could have walked in. Getting caught with his pants down in public was not the way he wanted to remember the first time he spent in the fanciest establishment he'd been in a while.

Marcone growled and pulled away with a sigh. Then he straightened, eyes clearing into focus. “You’re right,” he agreed, running a hand through his hair, sweeping stray strands into place. He gave Harry’s jacket a sharp tug to smooth the creases. “Room six fifty one,” Marcone said, fixing Harry’s tie, fingertips pausing against his throat when he swallowed. “Wait five minutes after I leave before stepping out. Send my regards to Ms Belevue.” He gave Harry an easy smile before exiting. Like he was damn sure Harry would turn up at his hotel room. 

There was no one else to seethe at but his own reflection. Five minutes would be enough to get his hair and the high flush in his cheeks under control but he doubt much could be done about his swelling lips. 

A nervous knock resonated through the washroom. It took Harry a moment to realize it was coming from one of the stalls. 

“Are you gents done?” rasped an elderly voice.

 _Hell’s bells_. Harry fled the bathroom rather than answer. 

\--

If Alicia suspected anything amiss, she was too polite to comment on it. Dinner was a hopelessly lost cause not because Harry was distracted but maybe he was putting too much effort into being interested. Every now and then he would catch Marcone’s eye and the bastard just looked as calm and collected as a fucking clam. Luckily for Harry, there was only dessert left to ruin.

“Sorry ‘bout tonight,” Harry said defeated, as they stood at the foyer of the hotel. She had insisted on paying since this was a celebratory dinner for Harry closing her case. He would have called her a cab but she assured him her driver was waiting just around the corner. He had a feeling this was the first and last time she’d ask him out. 

Alicia tucked herself to his side and gave his arm a squeeze. “I enjoyed myself. You’re a great catch, Harry. You should get out more and meet people,” she said, pressing her lips to his cheek. Harry felt her stiffen for a moment before saying with a little laugh that made his pulse jump. “Oh, Harry. Alphas are such a pain. I would know.” 

She laughed again at his appalled expression. Of course, Alicia would have picked up John’s scent, not across a table but she couldn’t have missed it this close. She stepped away with a wink as a black Mercedes pulled up the hotel entrance. 

“I’ll try to swing some cases your way. Take care, Harry.”

“Thanks? You too,” Harry called after her and she gave a wave before disappearing into her car. He was the worst date ever, even if this wasn’t technically a date. She handled it with far more grace than most people would. He stood for a moment longer, hands in his pockets, feeling like an asshole and considered his options. 

People came and went; Keller strode pass, face full of furious disappointment, trailing sweet omega musk in his wake that had more than a few heads swiveling to look. 

Usually Harry had a helpful topping of self-denial to ensure he didn’t have to deal with all his feelings about issues he'd rather leave buried. But even he had to admit he did not like the idea of Marcone with Keller. The kid had it bad but Harry found it hard to feel sorry for him. 

The right thing to do - the smart thing - would be to get into a cab and call it a night. 

Yeah, who was he kidding.

His feet were taking him to the nearest elevator almost on autopilot as he looked desperately around for some excuse to leave like a ghoul hurtling down the upper terrace or a Red Court vampire sashaying up the hotel stairs. 

Nothing. There weren't even any people waiting in the elevator to make him feel self-conscious. 

Harry watched the numbers climb, heartbeat picking up with every floor. They needed to talk. Casual sex was not the same as _mutually exclusive_ casual sex. That was starting to sound suspiciously like a relationship which was the last thing Harry wanted. It was slippery slope from there. Best to squash it before anything even remotely resembling feelings crept in.

The doors slid open on the sixth floor. Harry stepped out, cursing himself. He’d fucked John like five times and he was already getting attached. He always knew he was bad at casual sex, so bad he couldn’t even be sex-enemies with Marcone.

Harry knocked on room six-five-one The door opened. “Hey,” he said. “We need to – ” He didn't finish the sentence. Marcone yanked him into the room and slammed him against the door, stealing the breath from him with a vicious press of tongue and teeth. Harry fisted a hand into his hair and pulled but John just growled, grinding against him harder, the hot length of him apparent through layers of clothing.

Harry scrunched his eyes shut, groaning as a warm hands slid under his thighs, squeezing. His head thunked against the door, mouth falling open as he rut shamelessly against Marcone. “Talk,” Harry panted, trying to get a grip on his sanity. “We need to t-talk.”

“Later,” Marcone murmured, sucking a bruise under his jaw and Harry was inclined to agree with him. He managed to loosen his tie with one hand enough for Marcone to scrape teeth over his throat, instincts flaring hot with the sudden need to bare his throat. He bit back a whimper, fighting the urge to submit. Marcone responded by working his teeth into the soft flesh above his Adam's apple, not hard enough to break skin but damn it hurt. “Fuck, ow...oh _fuck_ \--” he hissed, fingers digging into Marcone’s shoulders.

Marcone licked the throbbing spot and Harry’s whole body clenched, slick gushing down his thighs. He spared a disgruntled thought for his ruined pants. Marcone made an impatient noise, his fingers deftly unbuttoning Harry’s pants. “C’mon, Dresden. Do some work.”

Harry grunted, shoving his pants and boxers out of the way while Marcone freed his own hard length and took them both in hand. The hot silky slide of him had Harry’s breath hitching. Marcone was panting softly, strokes too urgent to be gentle but so _fucking good_. He scrabbled against the door for leverage pulling Marcone in by his collar to kiss him.

“Christ,” Marcone muttered against his open mouth. Fingers teased Harry’s slick soft inner folds and Harry rocked against his hand. “You’re so fucking wet.” 

“You sound like - _ah_ \- a bad porno.” At this rate, he wasn't going to last.

The fingers withdrew and Marcone grasped their cocks again, hand liberally smeared with Harry’s slick, making each slide smoother. Harry reached for him, his own fingers sliding over Marcone's hand, thumb rubbing the head of Marcone's cock and shuddered when he heard the other man's breath catch. 

Marcone’s eyes were close, his brow furrowed. Harry stared dazedly at the loose strands of hair matted by sweat, colour high in his cheeks. The heat and rich scent of him. Stars and stones but Marcone was gorgeous like this, far removed from that cold calculative alpha Harry knew. He spread his legs a little more, letting Marcone press into him harder while Harry took greedy gulps of his scent, Marcone’s cock in his hand pulsing. Then Marcone groaned, “Harry…” through clench teeth, breath hot against Harry's ear, a little helplessly and Harry was coming so hard he might have fried a few brain cells. He was dimly aware of warm spurts of come streaking his shirt. 

Marcone's face was pressed against his shoulder, breathing raggedly. Harry was sliding down the door but he couldn't find enough strength to prop himself up. When Marcone stepped away, he let himself collapse with a grunt. 

He glanced at his clothes. “You’ve ruined my suit,” he complained but couldn’t muster up much heat.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Marcone said without a hint of remorse. He took off his clothes, not putting on a show or anything but Harry still felt his cock stir watching him strip with the same efficiency in which he took out whatever rabid creature that threatened Chicago.

“We… need to have a proper discussion,” Harry said with as much seriousness as a man sitting with his dick hanging out could. 

“Shower first,” Marcone said. If he didn't know better, he would have thought Marcone was being elusive on purpose. Groaning, Harry got to his feet, kicking off his pants and shoes, tossing his jacket, tie and shirt in a bundle before following Marcone. The bathroom was ridiculously opulent and Harry eyed the large bath longingly as he stepped into the shower. 

He decided that _this_ was probably a better idea when Marcone pushed him against the cool tiles with a heated look and dropped to his knees. Harry swallowed the 'please’ and gasped brokenly as Marcone’s throat worked around the head of his cock. Half an hour later, he was on his back, legs over Marcone's shoulders, getting fucked into the mattress. “Oh, _oh god_ ,” Harry moaned, hips jerking as Marcone held him down, wrists pinned above his head. He was still coming down from post-orgasmic bliss when Marcone rolled him onto his front. Harry shuddered and arched, protest dying into a high whine as Marcone pressed into him with tongue and fingers, savage in its intensity, sucking and licking until Harry was sobbing into the sheets.

“You lunatic,” Harry said later, filthy and sated, wondering why they’d even bothered with the shower. He didn't know if it was Marcone's possessive alpha side getting the better of him or if he wanted to show that whatever Harry was going to say was not worth the end of regular mind-blowing sex.

“Mmm,” John purred, grinning lazily, a satisfactory glint in his eyes.”What was it you wanted to discuss, Dresden?”

Harry glowered at him. “We need to stop doing this,” sounded ridiculous at this point, with the heavy scent of sweat and pheromones in the air and sticky sheets beneath them. Instead, he said, “I hate you,” and kissed Marcone's slick-smeared mouth with vehemence. 

Marcone laughed, sounding genuinely delighted and Harry felt his heart stutter, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

He was so screwed.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually had part 4 planned waaaay before this but I needed Harry to realize he might actually like John first... anyway I'll be working on part 4, but it might take a while before I post an update.


End file.
